


The Truth

by appending_fic



Series: Fire and Wonder [8]
Category: Addams Family - All Media Types, Coraline - All Media Types, Gravity Falls, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Mystery Skulls Animated, ParaNorman (2012), Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi | Spirited Away
Genre: Betrayal, Depression, Depression is a Little Shit, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Psychic Abilities, The Addamses are Excellent Neighbors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7513054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Europe dwells under the shadow of Despair's influence, of millions of suicides and a lingering depression. Through this, Norman and Mabel lead their band onward for some hint of how to confront Despair, and to find Dipper. However, Despair taunts Norman in his dreams, suggesting that Dipper has done something unforgivable, something that will break Norman before he can defeat the Chimerae...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The fog enveloping the Grecian coast parted briefly at dawn, revealing mountains rising above the nation below. Where the land they'd seen further west was gray and dull, vibrant plant life crawled up the side of the mountains, which glowed in the early morning light.

"Well, we're at Mount Olympus," Coraline said. "Now what?"

Discord, leaning against the railing several feet further aft, shrugged. "The cat said they'd meet us here. Something about keeping a low profile."

Coraline glared at the Chimera. "You know more about the cat than you're saying."

"Of course I am. For one thing, they asked me not to. Bill might not recognize the cat, but not all of his family are that dense."

"You're not, for one."

Discord twisted his head around to face Coraline, grinning. "Absolutely. For another, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you. And last, dragging you along without telling you anything is _hilarious_."

Coraline rolled her eyes. Discord had let bits of his personal history drop over their few weeks of travel aboard the _Flying Dutchman_ , and more complete stories of life in his adopted dimension when the lost souls that made up the crew asked for tales in exchange for their passage. From what he'd let slip, she suspected the last reason was the biggest reason Discord had kept quiet about the cat; if he could keep the secret until the most dramatic moment possible, he _would_ find it funny.

"So, are we swimming, or are the sailors giving us a little dinghy?"

"I'm pretty sure you can fly me to shore if you wanted to."

Discord sighed, shoulders slumping. "You take the fun out of everything." He flexed his wings and took to the air, grabbing at the back of Coraline's shirt as he lifted from the deck. "Say good-bye to the nice damned sailors!"

"Thank you!" Coraline cried as the Chimera soared away from the ship. She caught a brief glimpse of undead sailors waving at her. The crew of the Flying Dutchman had explained the risks they'd taken ferrying Coraline across the Atlantic; Bill Cipher had erased some of the world's most powerful spirits - not killed, but _unmade_ \- in the hours after his arrival in the physical world. But they'd decided Coraline's quest was worth the risk.

It took a few minutes to reach shore, where Discord set Coraline down gently before landing next to her.

"It took you long enough." The cat was sprawled on a wide rock. He yawned before standing slowly. "I was worried you weren't going to make it."

"You could have given us a hand getting here," Coraline retorted.

"That sounds an awful lot like being helpful. And you got here, anyway. Now, where are we going?"

Coraline's chest twisted. "I thought _you_ knew."

"Oh, well, there's knowing, and then there's _knowing_. Every spirit with any sense is hiding from the Chimerae, so our ladies aren't going to be sunning themselves on the beach. So I'm afraid it's up to you, Coraline."

Coraline sighed; she didn't know why she'd hoped the cat would be helpful at this juncture, although something was crying out for attention even as she began the slow walk to Olympus, and the hunt for the key to defeating Bill Cipher.


	2. Chapter 2

Norman’s dreams had been lingering on Dipper again, the last few weeks. His thoughts often did, but he was usually too exhausted to remember his dreams. Ever since they’d entered Europe, though, he’d woken every morning with memories of strange dreams. The worst part wasn’t that they were scary or sexy or anything, just...melancholy. He woke every morning with a keen sense of loss, the feeling that something was missing, and it was making their travel more difficult than it needed to be. Hiro and his friends had seen them to the edge of Russia, electing to remain behind to cobble something together out of the ruins of civilization out east. That left Norman, Mabel, and Arthur trying to find their way across Europe and to some way of facing the demon Despair.

Norman corrected himself, catching a flash of white at the edge of his vision, where what looked like a young man in a white tunic sat. The dragon Kohaku had elected to continue on with them, for reasons he hadn’t elaborated on. Mabel, of course, was delighted at the chance to make a new friend, but Norman wasn’t sure. Spirits were tricky things…

The truck rocked violently; Norman braced himself to avoid falling, and Kohaku retained his same placid pose. Mabel yelped and flopped onto her back. She didn’t make a move to rise, instead fisting her hands against the floor. Norman was beginning to worry about her; she’d been wearing the same violet sweater covered with googly eyes for a month. Sure, she only had six on hand, but she’d made an effort to rotate them before they’d left Destruction’s domain.

It wasn’t the only thing worrying about their trip through Europe. Norman ducked his head a little lower, below the sides of the truck bed. Their desperate trip to find Destruction had left little time to explore, so it had been a while since he’d had a proper interaction with a ghost. And then they’d arrived in Russia.

There were ghosts in Europe. There were a lot of ghosts in Europe. And Norman had made the fortuitous discovery that his talent transcended language. This had come along with a much worse revelation. The older ghosts were nice. The newer ones were quiet and unresponsive, prone to losing focus even if Norman could get their attention.

These were the symptoms of ghosts of people who had taken their own lives.

And there were so many of them…

The living were almost worse. They wore haunted expressions, their focus constantly drawn to the ever-present fog that obscured all vision more than a hundred feet away. They were helpful, but only because they were so listless. Mabel had stopped trying to engage the people who gave them rides, because their dull responses seemed to absorb and deaden even her enthusiasm.

And Norman was beginning to suspect they were slipping into the same doldrums as the people around them. There was no rumor or sign that suggested where Despair might be hiding - no giant city of the dead or trail of destruction. And unlike their past experiences, no Chimerae had appeared to give them any sense of urgency.

He didn’t know where they were going, and couldn’t find it in him to worry about it.

Their ride absent-mindedly let them off before sunset, leaving them to set up camp. Kohaku vanished shortly to provide some wood, “from the forest spirits,” he explained. Mabel and Arthur settled morosely next to the fire Norman had built, and even Mabel seemed unwilling to break the silence. Kohaku offered to take first watch, so Norman settled down soon after dinner, expecting fitful dreams.

Instead he dreamed of a lush sitting room - or a sitting room that would be lush if the upholstery weren’t moldering and dusty, the bookcases lining the walls full of rotting paper, and even the light wan and lifeless. Dust from Norman’s chair wafted around him, smelling of mold.

And sitting behind a scratched desk topped in stained, rotting felt was a woman, grey-skinned and fat. Her face was slack and uninterested, as if she had become complacent with her state, and she absent-mindedly dragged a hook across her cheek, drawing blood.

“Who are you?”

The woman chuckled hollowly. “You have seen the echoes of my presence across the breadth of Europe.”

Norman’s breath caught in his throat. “Despair. But I thought you looked like…” He gestured vaguely, hoping to capture the patchwork form that made up the Chimerae.

“We are shape-shifting demons of chaos. The forms we take are the forms we desire. Death and Destruction are not...subtle. When your goal is to drain someone of their will to live, a monstrous face is counterproductive.” Despair shrugged. The casual way she mentioned her aims, as if leading others to their deaths was only worth an aside, sent a shiver down Norman’s spine. 

“Doesn’t telling me what you’re planning sort of defeat the purpose?”

Despair let out a chuckle that morphed into a hacking cough halfway through. “You’ve obviously never struggled with depression. You’ve felt me seeping into your bones, Norman, and even knowing it’s my influence, you’ll drown under the weight of your own sense of helplessness. But I didn’t drag you here to gloat.” She fumbled at the front of the desk. “I wanted to talk to you about your boyfriend.”

Norman’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“I know well the lies men tell to protect themselves from things that hurt them. Your heart aches for him, or the nightly visitations of his image wouldn’t hurt you so. I wish I could be there to see your face when you finally see him again.”

“What? Don’t you like seeing people sad? It’s sort of in your name.”

“Oh yes,” Despair murmured. “And when you find out what he’s been up to, it’s going to break your little heart. The first boy you fell in love with, the person who took your virginity-”

“That’s not - it’s not like we-”

Despair waved a languid hand to silence Norman. “Let’s not quibble about language - we both know you _think_ of it that way. You’ve given him so much, and in the end, he…” She trailed off, laughing so hard she nearly hacked up a lung. “It’ll destroy you, and I intend to be there to watch it happen.”

Norman shook his head. “You’re trying to psych me out. It’s not going to work; he’s a good kid. I trust him.”

“I know! Which means when you find out the truth-”

“You’re up for watch.”

Norman bolted up with a yelp, nearly smashing Kohaku’s face with his own. The dragon reared back before stretching a hand out to Norman’s forehead.

“Calm down, it’s just me.”

Norman wanted to recoil, to shout, or something. But at the same time, he was tired. He couldn’t do anything to keep Despair from taunting him, and as long as he didn’t know where Dipper was, he couldn’t prove to her that she was wrong about him. So he let Kohaku keep his hand, cool, against his forehead.

“What happened?”

“Bad dreams,” Norman muttered. It was true, and had the benefit of not encouraging Kohaku to ask more questions. As he settled down for second watch, he brooded on the dream, and on Despair. He could guess why she’d been tormenting him, instead of Mabel. Under Despair’s influence or not, she could be a dangerous person to corner in dreams. And Despair had obviously figured out enough from Norman’s encounter with Death to want to keep her distance; it probably influenced her decision to go after him first, as well.

He tried very hard, over the next two hours, to not think about the possibility that, presented with the suggestion that Dipper had done something unforgivable, Mabel would have reacted with more faith - or at least with the certainty that Dipper couldn’t do anything she wouldn’t forgive.

The strange, still night weighed on him as he let his gaze drift to the fire, in which dark shapes fluttered in vague circles. The crackling of the flames faded into white noise, and the shapes took on clearer forms. Ravens and dragons circled Norman and Mabel, creatures of darkness and of multicolored light. Other forms flickered by, almost too quickly to see: a girl dressed all in black, a man with no left arm, a tiger, a man whose eyes were dark as night, and-

Mabel, standing alone, wrapped in a darkness speckled with stars. A huge eye opened behind her, slamming shut with a sharp movement that caused her to vanish.

Norman lurched backward, falling down to earth, his heart racing. His visions had grown more frequent since the battle of Mount Rushmore, but had grown more confusing, as well. 

He couldn't help but feel it was warning him to keep Mabel away from Bill Cipher, even though he knew they were doomed if they faced him without her.

Norman lurched back into awareness at a sharp croak behind him. The sky was the grey of the pre-dawn hour, a sign that he had lost hours of time, forgetting to wake Mabel for her shift. And behind him was a large raven, peering at him reproachfully.

“I don’t suppose you’d be any help interpreting my vision.”

The raven shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

A jolt shot down Norman’s spine. Dipper had met the spirit Raven once, one of the manifestations of the trickster spirit. Sure, Kohaku had insisted the world’s spirits were staying out of this, but maybe…

“Raven?”

“I’m Huginn!” the raven replied.

“He is not Huginn.” It was unsurprising the raven had woken Kohaku, but Norman still jumped at the unexpected voice. “Yubaba got in a fight with that creature once - left a scar on his wing.”

“No one likes a smartass!” the raven snapped.

“It’s someone’s pet,” Norman concluded. He reached out a cautious hand; Huginn pecked at it gently. “Hey. Where do you come from?”

“The darkest recesses of the human psyche!”

Kohaku was scowling at the raven, but Norman chuckled. He brushed a hand along Huginn’s head. “You’re not Despair’s raven, are you?”

Huginn laughed in response. Behind Norman, he heard the others shifting, but he kept his attention on the raven.

“Is that a no? Then who do you belong to?”

“Full of woe! Full of woe!” Huginn called, flapping his wings violently. “Wednesday’s child is full of woe, Thursday’s child has far to go!”

“Ooh! Who is this?”

Mabel pushed Norman halfway away in her excitement to approach the raven. She reached out to tickle his beak, but Huginn snapped at her.

“Ask before you touch!”

“Oh!” Mabel chuckled. “Sorry! I’m Mabel! Who are you?”

“His name’s Huginn. I don’t think he belongs to Despair.”

“But he belongs to somebody,” Mabel said thoughtfully. “Do you know how to get home, Huginn?”

“Second star on the right and straight on til morning!” The raven leapt from its perch, flapping with broad, wild strokes as he rose from the ground. Norman bolted after Huginn, skidding to an unsteady stop when the raven alit on a branch just overhead. Huginn tilted his head before letting out a sharp croak. “Well? Are you coming?”

Norman gave the others a brief look, surprised to find Mabel already directing Arthur and Kohaku to pack, giving him a bright grin. It took only a few minutes to get ready, and, sensing they were, Huginn took off again. The raven pushed them hard, never slowing for longer than it took for them to catch their breath, even as the sun passed its zenith and began sinking. Though the pace was brutal, Norman found the movement itself was easy; Huginn seemed to be avoiding hills or gaps that would put too great a strain on them. And by mid-morning, Norman felt some of the haze clearing from his head, a strange energy bubbling up in him as he ran.

Around noon, he realized the energy was happiness.

He caught glimpses of each of the others grinning for brief moments as the day progressed, something he hadn’t seen from any of them in the past weeks. His estimation of Huginn’s owner raised incrementally; even if accidentally, said owner had a raven who could dispel some of Despair’s influence.

But as the sun sank lower, the raven guiding them through what was increasingly becoming a dense and almost impassable forest, Norman’s good mood sank as well. His decision to follow the raven was seeming less wise by the moment as the air darkened and the shadows lengthened. Mabel, walking next to him, had a grim expression fixed on her face, clearly feeling the same growing sense of foreboding that was plaguing Norman. He was beginning to wonder if Huginn was in fact a servant of Despair, and this whole exercise had been an effort to destroy their morale…

And then the trees gave way to a clearing - correction, a sprawling estate carved out of the forest. Norman couldn’t immediately estimate the size of the estate beyond the forbidding wrought-iron fence, but it was large enough that he was surprised they hadn’t encountered some sign of it earlier. The fence - a word that failed to properly encompass the fifteen-foot-tall mass of twisted iron - was set with a gate, equally foreboding with its gargoyle faces and gleaming, polished spikes.

Someone had gone to a lot of effort to bring attention, lovingly, to every sharp-edged, macabre detail of this fence, even though it was a million miles from nowhere in the forests of…

“Where are we?” Norman asked, suddenly struck by the fact they’d been plodding on for weeks without any idea of a location or destination.

“Welcome to Transylvania!” Huginn cried.

“Wait - what?”

Before Norman could respond to Mabel’s outburst, however, Huginn pecked sharply at a protrusion on the gate, setting off a deep ‘bong’ sound that echoed across the grounds, before taking to the air with a cackling laugh.

“I say we run,” Arthur said while Norman’s ears were still ringing from the gong.

“To where?” And Kohaku’s question, unemotional and curious, sucked the energy from Arthur’s panic. There was nowhere they could go, nowhere that had as much promise of something - _anything_ \- happening that could give them some direction in their quest.

And in any case, there wasn’t time. The gate swung open with a creak straight out of classic horror movies. With the care given to the gate, Norman couldn’t imagine that creak was anything but deliberate, that someone had spent inordinate amounts of time perfecting the sound made when the gate opened.

A...person stood there, taller than anyone Norman had ever met, his face strangely slack, like a corpse. He was dressed in an aged suit, worn but kept in good repair. He gave Norman a smile that stretched the skin of his face oddly.

“You rang?”


	3. Chapter 3

The man led them along a winding path through the estate, made of stone cobbles and framed by dead rosebushes. Though strange in appearance, he seemed welcoming, the attempt at the strained smile evidence enough. And then they turned a corner to catch a glimpse of their destination, and his worry came back, a little.

“Oh. Transylvania,” Mabel murmured next to him. The castle’s towers were sharp fangs piercing the night sky, and were built to impose upon you that this was a _castle_ and you were damn well going to be impressed by it. Spike protrusions and gargoyles added to the creepy atmosphere, and if it wasn’t Dracula’s actual castle, it was a hop, skip, and a jump away from it.

There was no help for it but to keep following the man, although Norman stepped a little closer to Mabel. Kohaku and Arthur could take care of themselves, and he wouldn’t have to answer to _their_ brothers if they got eaten by vampires.

Their guide stopped at a huge wooden door inlaid with patterns of bats and wolves, pushing it open before them. The hinges, unlike those of the gate outside, moved as silent as the grave. Regardless, there was a woman waiting for them inside - a tall, stunning woman with skin as pale as the moon and raven-black hair trailing down her back. A plunging neckline and a form-hugging dress drew attention to her slender, hourglass shape like nothing else could. She had ‘black widow’ written all over her.

The smile, though, when she saw them, was so enthusiastic and charming that Norman had a hard time reconciling it with that first impression.

“Welcome, welcome, to our little home. It isn’t much, of course, but we do our best.”

“I…” Norman glanced at the others. This seemed to be Mabel’s cue, because she stepped forward and reached out a hand.

“Hi! I’m Mabel Pines! This is Norman, Arthur, and Kohaku-”

“A river spirit, of course.” The woman’s dark eyes glittered as she offered Kohaku a slim smile. “But do forgive me; things have been quite hectic around here and I’ve completely forgotten myself. My name is Morticia Addams, and I am the mistress of this house.”

“More like a castle, right?”

Morticia smiled gently at Mabel and let her hand drop. “Indeed. Come along, and we’ll get acquainted.”

She led them from the entryway, a grim affair in dark wood and stone, to a vaulted stone hall. Here, Norman paused; dozens of people were spread out across the floor, some sitting on blankets lying along it, others sleeping under tents or canopies.

“Is this a...refugee camp?”

Morticia gave Norman a wide smile. “Of course. The Addamses have always prided ourselves on our charitability. And even if not, we are bound by the rules of _noblesse oblige_. When people came to our doors begging sanctuary, how could we turn them away? But I’m being unforgivable rude; you should have something warm to drink before we get to business.”

An ancient woman was directing a dozen people in a cavernous kitchen, and at Morticia’s request, provided five cups of steaming, bubbling liquid Norman had to take on faith wasn’t poisonous. Morticia sat them at a small table and took a sip of her own cup before continuing.

“We were in Europe when we heard about all that unpleasantness in America. Luckily, we had this mouldering ruin up here. And then people started showing up, and, well, you can see the result. It’s a gloomy, close space, but we miss home nonetheless.” She sighed, running a long, delicate finger along the rim of her cup. “Now, perhaps you could share your reasons for passing by.”

“A raven led us here,” Norman started.

Morticia chuckled. “Oh, one of Wednesday’s. She does so like to pretend at being put-upon by circumstances, but here she is leading poor people right to our door. However, if you are her guests, perhaps she should show you around.”

She reached up to pull at a long rope; a deafening gong rang through the castle. The doorman, or whatever he was, appeared behind her.

“You rang?”

“Do please find Wednesday, Lurch. Her guests have arrived.”

The woman who accompanied Lurch back was a contrast to Morticia; the face held much of the angular shape and there was a great similarity in the dark depths of her eyes, but she appeared to have taken the effort to divorce herself from the stunning picture of her mother. Her dark hair was twisted in a strange knot at the top of her head, her dress, though black, was severe and flared enough to conceal much of her shape. Despite that, she moved with Morticia’s gliding grace, and a self-confidence that made her impossible to ignore.

“Wednesday, dear, one of your ravens-”

“Huginn,” Mabel offered.

“Yes, Huginn, led these people here. If you could please show them around, see if you can’t make them comfortable.”

“Yes, mother. Come along.”

Wednesday turned without a word, forcing Norman to scramble to stand and follow. She led them on a winding path through the castle, a path that rose slowly until they reached a steep spiral staircase.

“Where are we going?”

Wednesday didn’t spare Norman a glance as she glided up the stairs. “I thought you might like to see my observatory. I’ve been putting together a picture of what’s been going on here. Well, everywhere, actually.” She brushed a lock of hair away from her head as she took another turn on the stairs.

“Could you help us find Dipper?”

“Hm. Perhaps. I’ve largely been monitoring the larger picture. The chaos in Africa, the madness in the United States, the hopelessness in South America…”

“Where’s Desire?” Arthur demanded.

Wednesday paused and gave him a long, assessing look. “He found the poorest, most miserable place on Earth, and began giving them everything they wanted. It’s _horrible_.” She pursed her lips in disgust before stepping off the stairs through a narrow arch that led, shortly, to a low wooden door. She stepped inside and Mabel followed; Norman paused on the threshold, but nothing seemed to happen to the two women, so he followed them inside.

What lay beyond was very much like an observatory. The walls were made of crystal, framed by thin bands of dark metal. A long table sat against the far wall, on which sat a copper bowl, chalk, and tightly-bound iron boxes. Wednesday tugged a wire chair away from the table and dropped down onto it with a sigh. She gestured airily at the rest of the length of the table.

"Make yourselves comfortable; you seem the sort to want to."

Mabel pulled out a chair to take a seat, as did Arthur. Kohaku, though, remained standing, and Norman couldn't bring himself to sit.

"You said you could help us find Dipper?"

"I said _maybe_. I spent a great deal of effort finding you four, and I might not have managed _that_ if Despair hadn't tried the personal touch." The others looked confused, but Norman's heart clenched. Wednesday gave him a sharp smile. "She's good at what she does, I admit. A waste of good talent."

"Talent? For what - torturing people?"

Wednesday glanced sharply at Arthur. "Of course. If I could do what she does…" Her eyes went a little hazy, a fond smile tugging at her lips. "Well, I shouldn't want for occupation day to day."

Norman's blood ran cold, but it was Mabel who reacted first, lunging at Wednesday. Wednesday slid up smoothly and caught Mabel's arms before she could strike her.

"You monster!" Mabel screamed. "She's _killing_ people!"

"Like I said, a waste." Wednesday shoved Mabel back and took a few steps along the table. "I thought, when I first heard of her, that we were kindred spirits. A women who embodied despair, who carried it with her like a shroud? And then I found she was a common bully, dragging people down until they can't take the pain anymore. An absolute _waste_ , inflicting so much despair on someone they give up feeling altogether."

"I'm sorry - you thought...you'd get _along_ with her?" Arthur's brow was furrowed, but his robotic arm was twitching. Norman could understand the feeling; he wasn't sure if they needed to talk sense into Wednesday, get away from her, or burn the whole castle to the ground. "She's the embodiment of despair!"

Wednesday's eyes narrowed at Arthur as she shook her head. "I'd hoped at least one of you understood. Despair isn't sadness, or...depression. It’s that raw, bleeding pain of knowing you’ll never fulfill a dream, that something has slipped out of your grasp. It’s tears that won’t stop flowing because your heart is full of nothing but memories of things you’ll never know again.” Something about Wednesday’s words seemed strange, but it took a few moments for Norman to work through his distraction enough to notice it.

When talking about the pain and misery of despair, Wednesday sounded almost _ecstatic_.

“It’s the most beautiful, exquisite feeling in the world, because it reminds us that we can still care enough to have something destroy us, that we can still love with an all-engulfing passion. It is a _travesty_ that Despair has seized control of it, only to use it to make people forget about _everything_ worth living for."

Wednesday's expressions were muted, but there was something beneath the surface, cracks in her cool facade. He wondered, vaguely, what her father was like, that such passion burned beneath her skin.

But Mabel stepped in close, slinging an arm around Wednesday's shoulders. Wednesday tensed at the touch, at which point Mabel drew back a step. She was smiling, though, wide, friendly, and uncomplicated. "I'm a big enough woman to admit I misunderstood you."

Wednesday faltered, and for a moment, she looked like any other young women, confused by a turn of events she hadn't expected. "What?"

"You see, we've got a proposition for you…"

They spent the night planning, and the next morning preparing. When it was done, there were two circles drawn at the center of the room. Wednesday had placed a shallow copper bowl within the inner circle, and set candle stubs around it at irregular intervals. Norman sat inside the outer circle, close enough he could smell the sharp scent of the herbs in the bowl, and waited for Wednesday to light the candles and step outside the outer circle.

Norman closed his eyes and tried to let his mind drift away from the castle, and toward Dipper. That weird grin, the flushed smile he got when he was embarrassed, the scrawny frame that concealed unexpected strength-

The vision came without warning, and it was only from the shock of it that Norman didn’t immediately register what he was seeing. It was Dipper, a little taller and broader than Norman remembered, dressed in heavy layers of grey and brown. He was seated on a pile of upended crates, and was talking to…

Their voices echoed strangely in Norman's mind.

" _I've been keeping them busy..._ "

" _...eyes off of me...Time Vortex...meddling boyfriend…_ "

“No.”

“Tell us what you see, Norman.”

“No. This doesn’t make any sense.”

“You’re seeing it, Norman. Tell us what it is.”

Something in Norman’s chest twisted, sending a sharp pain through it. “I’m not-”

“What _is_ it?”

“Dipper’s - he’s talking to Bill. He should be arguing or trying to kill him, but he’s not. Dipper’s acting like he and Bill are...friends.” Norman’s stomach roiled.

“Did you really think he left you for some noble purpose?” A cool breeze brushing along him made Norman start, jolting backwards. The fat, heavy-jowled woman of his dreams sat at the very center of the inner circle, grinning with pointed teeth. “It’s a new world, Norman, one where a child with little power can become so much more. Why would he want to trail in your shadow when he could become something beyond your wildest dreams?”

“Oh, come on! Dipper would never team up with Bill!” Mabel’s certainty, for a moment, buoyed Norman’s spirits.

“He considered it _many times_ when you were held captive by Ravana. And then…” Despair shook her head, trailing off.

“And then what?”

Despair looked up at them, grin nearly as wide as her head. Her fangs gleamed. “When the Miracle Man raised the dead, Dipper held that magic in his hands. He had the power, the skill, to turn it aside and stop all of this. You’ve consoled yourselves thinking maybe he wasn’t strong enough, but he was. He could have prevented all this, and he _chose not to_. Is it so surprising that, after that, he chose to align himself with Bill Cipher?”

Despair had been right all along. It _hurt_ , hearing those words. It hurt knowing they were right. It had nagged at Norman every night since the end of the world, and it made sense to hear Despair’s explanation. And it was worse for all he’d shared with Dipper.

“And now what?” Wednesday’s voice, clipped and unemotional, were little more than background noise to Norman’s knotted chest. He wanted to cry. “You’re hardly going to drive him to suicide right here. Because that’s all you do, isn’t it? Drag on people’s feelings until they can’t take it anymore? What a waste.”

“I don’t recall asking you for your opinion.”

“I don’t recall asking you to stomp around ruining people’s lives, but here you are, anyway. And it’s a waste, a damn waste, to inflict so much despair on someone they give up feeling altogether. You're such an - _amateur_!"

Despair's upper lip curled up, the Chimera's eyes gleaming dangerously, and then it lunged at Wednesday, only to slam into an invisible wall that corresponded with the edge of the inner circle. And seeing Despair trapped like that helped bring Norman's mind back to the present, and to the plan. He held out a hand and reached out to Despair, to the core of power that let her drown people in sorrow.

Despair shifted into her serpentine form, raven’s head croaking angrily as she scrabbled at the smooth stone floor. 

Norman recalled the feeling when he'd pulled Death from the first Chimera. He didn’t need to touch the chest or whatever to know where a creature’s power resided. He just...pulled.

When he stepped back, a purple fire burned in his palm. He gave Despair a wide, smug smile, and reached out and away. Wednesday took his hand, briefly, and the cool flame left Norman. Then Wednesday grabbed Norman and yanked him back, out of the circle, before Despair could lunge at him again. Inside, the Chimera howled and raged, but impotently, as she had no power to draw on.

"And what are we supposed to do with her now?"

Wednesday gave a careless shrug. "I'm sure we can find some place for her."

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Despair hissed. "Even if you rip the power from each of us, you can't beat him. Not alone, and _certainly_ not with your boyfriend on his side."

"I think we'll burn that bridge when we get to it," Mabel retorted. "Anyhoo, I'm starving. When's lunch?"

They stayed the night; Morticia and her husband, Gomez, fussed over her daughter becoming a demigod. Her brothers begged her to show her what she could do, until she plunged them into an eternity of despair, only bringing it to an end when Gomez told her not to spoil them. It seemed that the Addams castle had been safe from Despair not because of some magic, but because its masters found strange joy in the darker emotions, something that shielded them from the numbness that had consumed the rest of the continent.

And the next morning, Gomez dragged them all outside. “She won’t say it, but Wednesday feels she owes you. She might be a bit...dark, but she cares about fairness and all that.” He puffed on a cigar and waved at the sky. “And she said you’re not planning to stay - going off to take on the rest of the Chimerae. If I didn’t have my responsibilities, I’d be tempted to join you. But Wednesday decided to pull some strings to get you where you need to go.”

“Desire?” Arthur demanded.

“Yes. That one’s making a lot of trouble down south, and you seem just the people to fix it.”

“And how exactly are we going to get there?”

A great pounding in the air came heralded by a strong wind; a giant raven glided to the Addams’ garden. It twisted its head around to peer at Norman.

“Hey, nerd. What’s up?”

“Oh my god! A talking bird! This is amazing!”

“Not that unusual, among spirits,” Kohaku offered. “Especially for the archetypal ones. You are deigning to carry us, Raven?”

“Yeah.” Raven raised his head, croaking. “Keeping an eye on what the Pines are doing’s a good idea. And Desire owes me ten bucks.”

It was all well and good, Norman thought as Raven flew them away from Transylvania, but it didn’t solve what he was certain was the bigger problem. He knew he couldn’t trust what Despair told him, but it was harder to disbelieve his own eyes.

Somewhere, Dipper was dealing with Bill Cipher, which meant, at the least, he needed someone around to remind him what a bad idea that was.


	4. Chapter 4

As with all proper castles, the Addams home had a dungeon. Despair had been given a premium cell, where she could properly reflect on pushing millions of souls to suicide.

“Hey, sis!”

She didn’t look up when Bill appeared. “I could have used your help earlier.”

“Yeah...I bet you could. Unfortunately, _helping_ you isn’t really high on my list of priorities.”

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Hahaha, wow, that pessimism was bound to be right one day. I’m not planning on killing you, per se. I just need your tongue.”

“My…” Despair felt a jolt of something like hope. “You’re going to-”

Before she could finish, Bill reached into Despair’s mouth and squeezed her tongue, pulling it free in a single sharp movement. Despair sobbed in pain as blood welled up in her mouth.

“Man, you always did like flapping that tongue of yours. But I really can’t have you blabbing all about my plans; you never know who might be listening. Anyhoo, I gotta jet. You might want to put something on that wound before you bleed to death. Or hey, you might get lucky and one of these people you tried to drive to suicide might find you and nurse you back to health.”

Bill paused a step away, though, before turning to lean in close to Despair. “But yes. You’re exactly right. You have to admit it’s hilarious, making them think they’re saving the world. I mean, they _are_ \- I can’t imagine this place would hold together for another decade with us running around. But I can’t wait to see the looks on their face when they realize how much _worse_ beating the lot of you is going to make things.”


	5. Chapter 5

“So what do you think?” Diana pushed her chair back with one leg, rocking back and forth.

“I don’t trust him.”

Wonder Woman laughed. “Of course you don’t, Bruce. J’onn?”

“His thoughts are...unclear.” The martian rubbed at his forehead. “He either has a great deal of training or has some sort of protective device.”

“Or has a natural resistance. There are a lot of reasons why you can’t read him, J’onn. What about his story? An immortal dream demon threatening all of reality?”

Shayera raised one hand. “I talked to him a little, and it’s more complicated than that. For one thing...it’s more plausible. The Thanagarians used to worship something like that, something from out of time.” She tapped her mace against the table, frowning. “It’s possible they’d travel to another world. But the name...Cipher...doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Will it really hurt to help him out a bit?”

“It might. Even the most innocuous gift could turn out to be dangerous if he has malicious intentions.” They all glanced at Bruce, who naturally was the one voicing the real heart of the matter.

“So?” Diana gave Clark a sharp look. “Do you think he does? Or not?”

“I think...he’s trying to protect his home.”

“Well, that settles it.” Shayera slammed her mace down on the table. “If we’re going to help him out against extradimensional entities, there’s only one tool that’ll be any use. Bruce, you still got any weapons in storage from the Thanagarian invasion?”

With Mr. Pines outfitted with Nth metal weaponry and sent on his way through some of the more reliable transdimensional technology they could get their hands on, the Justice League reconvened. John was rubbing at his hand; Shayera gave him an inquisitive look.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I half-expected him to try to make a play for the ring; he saw what it could do. I guess he’s more trustworthy than you thought, Bruce.”

“Hm.”


End file.
